Desperate Measures
by rivendellelve
Summary: The job had gone south. So far south, in fact, some people might call it north. But if Eliot had been one to give up at the first sign of hopelessness he would've been dead already.


_A/N: Written for Gorgolo Chick, as Eliot's POV of the events described in `For I have sinned´. You don't need to know it to understand what's going on but it's a short and funny oneshot._

_Unbetaed so all mistakes are my own._

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine or there would be more Eliotwhump._

**Desperate Measures**

The job had gone south. So far south, in fact, some people might call it north. Turns out the mark had been expecting them. Just one tiny slip and they were royally screwed and no matter how good he was, there was no way Eliot could take out the goon squad with Sophie _and_ Hardison held at gunpoint. In two different rooms no less. And Parker, loyal little thief that she was, gave herself up instead of getting the hell out of there like he had ordered her to.

But plan gone wrong or not Eliot would be damned before he let anyone hold his team prisoner.

* * *

When he initially came to he knew two things: one – he had been tazed, his sore muscles could attest to that, thank you very much, and two – those guys knew how to tie a knot. His hands were tied behind the chair he was sitting on with extra ropes wound around his chest. His team – minus their fearless leader – was sitting next to him, similarly trussed up. Except for Parker – the lithe woman was wrapped up almost like a Christmas present. She looked… offended – _yeah, more like murderous _– that she had been caught. Never mind that she had _let_ herself be caught. Truth be told if she felt the need to exact some revenge once they escaped he would gladly lent her a hand – or fist as it might be the case.

At least Nate was still free – or so Eliot thought (hoped), since there were only four of them here. With their ear buds gone there was no way of being certain. Not to mention them all being gagged would've made communicating difficult at any rate and while Eliot could communicate with only grunts and growls (usually accompanied by glaring) he wasn't sure how to express tied-up-in-a-windowless-room-and-guarded-by-four-meatheads-with-guns-big-enough-they're-probably-trying-to-compensate-something. Did that just sound like Hardison? He definitely was spending too much time with the hacker.

_Though this whole ordeal does have one upside – they actually managed to shut Hardison up._ Not a mean feat considering the hacker's chatty nature. If he were honest with himself – which he absolutely wasn't. No. Way. – He did kinda miss the constant monologue.

Just as the hitter was contemplating this pretending to be still pretty out of it – because really, go ahead, no need to watch this hitter closely, he clearly isn't going to try anything – Goon A and B decided to go for a smoke, or something, leaving them with only Tweedledee and Tweedledum who thank god for small favors had turned their backs towards their `helpless´ prisoners.

_Perfect_. Eliot smirked. Twisting his hands he managed to reach the blade he had hidden on the inside of his belt. He believes in being prepared. Any idiot could check a captive for a boot knife but a blade taped to the inside of a belt? _Hah!_ Most people never even thought of it.

Carefully the hitter began to work on the rope around his wrists, his grip on the blade awkward, not only severing fibers but also cutting into his own flesh. His process was slow, slower than he was comfortable with but he couldn't risk working any faster or his oh-so-vigilant guards might notice and then they would go from royally screwed to something they'd need to invent a name first. _Hardison probably already has a name for that._ What he needed was more time – or a distraction.

Just as he thought it Goon A and B came back, which he expected, and with them came the mark and – _dammit _– Nate, which he did not expect. He shot Nate a look that was meant to say _`The heck yer think yer doin' here?´_ though he suspected he only looked freaked out. When they were only a few feet from the team the mark and Nate stopped, the goons hovering in the background.

This was apparently the part where the villain would hold his `I'm better than you and now you'll all die´-speech. He could see the guy getting ready to gloat. Eliot cut faster.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you've enjoyed my hospitality so far. It was short but alas – all good things must come to an end." He gave them one of his slimy smiles. "You see, I could have Hank-" he nodded towards Goon B "kill all of you. However, I've always been a big supporter of the cut-of-the-head solution."

The blade was getting slippery from Eliot's blood.

"You see, your boss here-" their eyes all fixed on Nate. "He seems to have a bit of a soft spot for his team and so I made an offer. His life for yours."

_You gotta be kiddin' me! Nate!_

Their mastermind didn't look at them. Probably not wanting to meet their eyes while he was being heroic and trying to save them. Friggin' martyr.

Eliot doubled his efforts. Stealth be damned. He had to get free.

The mark handed Nate a gun, a Beretta the tactical part of his mind informed him. And Nate, the damn bastard, took it calmly, weighting it in his hand as if judging whether spreading your brain all over the floor (and ceiling) was an acceptable way to kick the bucket. Eliot strained against his binds, was dimly aware of the fact that the rest of the team did the same.

_C'mon man, yer supposed to be our criminal mastermind. You gotta stall! Stall so I can kick yer ass for being this damn stupid! Only a few more minutes you damn son of a – _

Only then did Nate look at his team, making eye contact with each of them and the goodbye Eliot could read in those eyes chilled him more than those Siberian winters he had endured. Beside him he heard Sophie and Hardison trying to yell through their gags (and while all that they managed was a muffled `mmmffp´ the message was clear.)

Nate slowly put the gun in his mouth, one finger wrapped around the trigger. Adrenalin rushed through Eliot's veins, fear lending him strength. Nate's finger gradually squeezed the trigger – _NO!_ –

and the pistol jammed. Later Hardison would claim he never heard a sweeter sound than the gun jamming but in that moment Eliot mobilized whatever energy he had left, his muscles working, straining and then the rope lost the fight against the force of nature that was Eliot pissed off. It snapped and in the time it took for Nate (who had seemed entirely too okay with dying for his team and – make no mistake – Eliot was going to kill him for that later) and the slimy bastard that was their mark to blink stupidly at him the hitter had already taken out one of the goons and was currently beating the hell out of the second.

Unfortunately, once he was done with number three and four, the mark had run away like the cowardly little weasel he was, leaving Eliot with a lot of built up rage and nothing to vent. (He was kinda waiting for Hardison to make a Hulk-reference.) The hitter jabbed a finger at Nate and growled more than he said "You an' I, we gotta talk." before he stalked over to Parker to cut her lose.

**The End**

_A/N: I should probably mention that the trick with the knife and the belt was what Michael used in a Burn Notice episode. _

_So, no one died, everyone's home safe again and if you don't want me to hire Hardison to hack your accounts and make him do something you'll regret you should leave a review and tell me what you think. Pretty please?_


End file.
